Maura and the Nutcracker
by starophie
Summary: Maura Isles and her two little brothers are very excited for Christmas. But when their godfather gives Maura an enchanting nutcracker doll — a doll so lovely it seems almost real — Maura's Christmas Eve turns into a whirlwind adventure filled with swordfights, fairies, a legend, and a curse.
1. The Christmas Tree

okay, so it's not a sequel to _here, there, and back again_ (or any of the other fics i've written for which sequels have been requested, for that matter). i'm sorry about that. but i started writing this last year — too close to the holidays, of course — and thought i might test the waters and see what you think. i'll try and update daily, but i make no promises. reviews help, though ;)

enjoy, my lovelies! and happy december!

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><p>"I want to see the tree!" Tommy whined miserably, tugging on the hem of Maura's lacy white nightgown. Maura put her book aside, pulling her small brother onto the window seat beside her.<p>

"Mother and Papa will come for us soon, Tommy," Maura promised, brushing the little boy's hair from his eyes. He frowned, messing his hair up again, and Maura giggled.

"What do you think Godfather has brought for us this year, Maura?" Frankie asked, coming over to his siblings and sitting on the other side of his sister.

"I'm not sure," Maura said thoughtfully, a crease forming between her eyebrows. "But I overheard Papa talking to him about a lovely garden, with flowers of all colors, and a pond with swans in golden collars that swim around to beautiful music."

"I hope that's not it!" Frankie exclaimed, making a horrified face.

"Yes, that's not for men," Tommy agreed.

"Papa told me that it was a castle full of soldiers, marching bravely in neat rows," Frankie said, "with swords and medals and a full cavalry."

"I do not care for Godfather's toys," Tommy declared sullenly.

"What an awful thing to say, Thomas!" Maura scolded.

"'Tis true! Papa and Mama never let us play with his toys. They just put them up on the high shelf so that I cannot reach. I like their presents better, because at least I may do with them as I please."

"What did you wish for Christmas, Tommy?" Frankie asked his little brother.

"A chess set," he answered proudly. "And a new steed, because yours is withering away."

"Only because you are so harsh with it," Frankie grumbled. "I wished for a real army outfit, and a saber."

"I am hoping for some new books," Maura confessed, "and perhaps a pair of dancing slippers."

"You're not old enough for dancing slippers," Frankie scoffed. "You're only thirteen!"

"Hmph!" Maura sniffed haughtily. "You're just a boy, Francesco, what do you know of dancing?"

"Children!" There was a knock on the door, interrupting the dispute, and the voice of their mother came through. "It is time."

Tommy and Frankie leapt off the seat, while Maura took the time to rise gracefully. Once she had reached her brothers, the three Isles children burst through the nursery doors and scampered into the parlor.

"Oh, Mama, how beautiful it all is," Maura exclaimed, pressing up against her mother.

Angela Isles smiled at her eldest child. "I am gladdened to hear that you approve, darling. Come, look at all of the gifts Christmas has brought you!"

Maura and Angela made their way over to the large Douglas Fir that was the centerpiece of the room. It was covered in shining baubles — glittering glass globes, twinkling candles, tissue-wrapped orange and lemon drops, and the most delicately crafted sugar figurines.

The little boys had already found what belonged to them — for Tommy, a lovely mahogany chess board with playing pieces carved of white marble and onyx, and a new bay pony with bit and bridle. For Frankie, there was a handsome general's uniform, complete with cap and sword.

For Maura, the table held a different set of delights. She found leather-bound books in all colors and sizes, with delicate embossing and gold-edged pages. There was also a fancy green dress hanging beside the tree, trimmed with velvet and ribbons and frills of all sorts. Beneath the table, too, in a box that bore her name, was the most wonderful surprise of all.

"Slippers!" Maura cried, taking the sweet satin shoes from their confines and hugging them to her chest. "Oh, Mother, thank you!"

"It was your Papa who convinced me, but we believe you to be wise and mature enough now. Go on, then, dear, and show us how they fit you," Angela coaxed.

Maura did not need much encouragement, however, for no sooner than Angela had suggested it were Maura's house shoes placed aside and the pale blue slippers were on her feet. Maura made quick work of the ankle ribbons, and then lifted the hem of her nightie to display her new shoes.

"They match perfectly," she noted, comparing the blue of the ribbons on her dress to the ribbons on the shoes. "You know that this blue is my favorite shade."

"Indeed," her papa said, wrapping an arm around his wife's shoulders. "It suits you terribly well, Maura."

"Thank you, Papa," Maura answered demurely, doing a little pirouette.

"You are quite welcome," Vincent said, pressing a kiss to Maura's honey-colored curls. "I must get back to the men, my dear," he said quietly, addressing Angela.

She nodded in agreement. "It won't do to keep my companions waiting, either."

Maura took in the scene around her as her parents left her side. Milling about were many of her parents' associates — Maura recognized important men in the community, like Professor Keystone, and Colonel Jones, and Doctor Pike, resuming a discussion with her father, Councilor Sean C. Isles. Her mother was also surrounded by many friends, like Lady Camille and Duchess Carla. Frankie and Tommy had found a band of brothers to roughhouse with, so Maura sighed lightly and brought one of her new books to a small chair before the fire, curling up to read.

"I thought I might find you here, my dear," a soft voice spoke from over Maura's shoulder.

"Godfather Frost!" Maura squealed, wrapping her arms around the friend's neck and allowing him to lift her in the air.

"Merry Christmas, little Maura," he said. "Would you like to see your present from me?"

"May I really? Oh yes please, Godfather!"

Frost set Maura down, and she clasped her hand in his as they walked into the dining room where Godfather Frost had set up his latest creation.

It was, as Frankie had said, a large castle, but there was a surrounding moat that fed into a small pond with Maura's beloved swans. As promised, the swans floated idly about the blue pool, a lilting melody playing softly as they did so.

"It's lovely, Godfather Frost," Maura said quietly, still awestruck.

"There's more to see, dear girl," he responded.

Maura's eyes widened as the tiny drapes were opened in the windows of the castle, and delicate little faces began to appear in the lit spaces.

"Oh, they are so dear!" Maura exclaimed. "Look, Godfather, at that child! She looks just like me!"

Indeed, there was a small blonde head peeking out of a balcony on the east wing of the castle — her painted eyes were a mix of green and brown, and her little white and blue nightie looked very similar to the one Maura wore currently.

"And there's Frankie! And Tommy!" she gasped, pointing out two smaller figures that had appeared on the terrace beside her. The taller doll had hair so dark it was nearly black, and had a miniature sword strapped and sheathed over his pajama coat. The smallest one had hair darker than Maura's but lighter than Frankie's, and it was rumpled and ruffled. Tiny Tommy was riding a tinier horse, one with a caramel-colored coat and a bright blonde mane.

"Hey!" Tommy shouted, pushing in between Maura and Frost. "Let me see too!"

Maura scowled at her brother, but Godfather Frost merely chuckled and lifted him up to see better.

"Ah, how wonderful," he whispered, amazed.

"Is that me?" Frankie asked, having come up behind them. "Godfather Frost, let me go into your castle."

"My dear Frankie, that cannot be done. The turrets of the castle are hardly higher than your head. How do you expect to fit?" Godfather asked.

Frankie tilted his head to the side, puzzling out that statement. "Very well, then — let the figure of me come out."

"That, too, cannot be. Such as the mechanism is, so it must remain."

"So many things that cannot be!" Frankie cried. "Give me my legion over this stuffy contraption any day of the week."

With that, he stormed away, Tommy following soon after.

"I apologize for his rudeness, Godfather," Maura said, touching Frost's arm lightly.

"No matter, dear one," he answered, smiling brightly at her. "That reminds me — I have one more treat for you."

Godfather Frost reached into his large black case, withdrawing a slender, wrapped package. Handing it to Maura, he said, "This was meant to be for you and your brothers, but I think you will enjoy it most."

Maura reverently undid the strings and removed the paper from the box. When she took off the lid, she gasped in surprise and delight, for in the box was a beautiful, hand-painted nutcracker doll.

The handsome toy was dressed in a most becoming uniform. The coat was scarlet, with gold buttons adorning the chest and epaulets, and the pants were white with a scarlet stripe up the leg. Small and sturdy black boots fit so snugly that they almost looked painted, and a fluffy black soldier's cap covered very real-looking raven curls. What charmed Maura most, though, was the little nutcracker's face. The features were sharp, but had a delicate, almost feminine quality to them. The defined cheeks were decorated with splashes of rouge, and dark eyes seemed alive above a smiling mouth full of strong white teeth.

"Oh, thank you," Maura murmured, still gazing at the gift. "It's beautiful."

"I had never seen a nutcracker such as this one," Frost admitted, "and for some reason, it reminded me of you."

Maura stretched up on her toes and pressed a tender kiss to her Godfather's cheek. "It is absolutely perfect, Godfather. Thank you."

"You are quite welcome, little one."

"Shall we test it?" Maura asked, an impish light in her hazel eyes. On the parlor table, amidst the gingerbread houses and rich puddings, she spied a large bowl of whole walnuts.

"Good idea!" Frost followed Maura into the fray, where many guests were gathering plates of fruit and sweets. Maura searched the bowl for the perfect specimen, and once she'd found it, opened the nutcracker's mouth and placed the wrinkled orb inside.

Maura pressed down on the lever hidden beneath the nutcracker's jacket, and as the husk of the walnut split in two, the sweet kernel once hidden inside fell into Maura's upturned palm. She slipped the nut into her own mouth, and sighed joyfully.

She spent the next half of the hour cracking any nuts with a shell she could find in the bowl. Big, small, or in-between — she was enraptured. Unfortunately, her fun was soon to end.

"Maura, what are you doing?"

"Cracking nuts, Tommy," Maura answered. "Would you like to help?"

"Alright," he agreed with a shrug. But when Maura showed him the nutcracker, he burst into peals of laughter. "What is _this_?" he asked through his giggles.

"This is my nutcracker," Maura said, her feelings a bit hurt.

"It's hideous!"

"It is not!" Maura yelled, her face flushing crimson with anger.

"Is so! I have never seen such an ugly doll!"

"It is not ugly! It's wonderful!"

Tommy grabbed the nutcracker from Maura's hands, and began to wield it like a puppet. "La la la," he trilled, opening and closing the poor nutcracker's mouth roughly with the lever.

"Tommy, stop, you must be gentle!"

Tommy continued to mock his sister, dancing the nutcracker across the table and crudely forcing its mouth open wide. Maura kept trying to take it from him, terrified that he would break it. She finally grasped the doll, but Tommy tugged the lever, and with one sickening crack, he pulled up just a little too hard and dislodged it from the nutcracker's back.

The toy's jaw hung loosely, neither able to close all the way nor stay open. It was ruined.

"Now look what you've done!" Maura cried heatedly.

"I'm sorry," Tommy said, lip trembling. "I didn't mean to break it, I was just having fun."

"Well I wasn't!" Maura snapped, still furious. "My poor, sweet little nutcracker," she mourned. She set the doll down gently on the table, and reached up to untie the short length of ribbon that bound her hair from her face. Curls tumbled down across her cheeks, but she brushed them aside and focused on wrapping the injured patient's jaw with the fabric.

"There you are, darling friend," Maura whispered soothingly. "All better."

"Maura, I _am_ sorry," Tommy whined, but Maura just ignored him. Tucking the nutcracker securely under her arm, she went back to curl up in her chair by the fire.

As she stared into the flickering embers, Maura cradled her broken toy. Before long, her eyes fluttered shut, and she soon fell into a deep, deep slumber.


	2. Maura and the Nutcracker

hi! i'm glad you guys enjoyed the first chapter, so here's another for you. i'll answer user reviews privately, but guest reviewer **ab** asked how old they were, so i'll answer that here. maura is thirteen, frankie is ten, and tommy is seven. as for the nutcracker, well...you'll soon see ;)

would a _dramatis personae_ (that is, cast list) help anyone? i don't think it's hard to see who everyone is, but maybe that's because i know things that you don't know yet. let me know, and enjoy! (sorry this got posted twice, my finger slipped!)

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><p>It was the first bong of midnight that woke Maura.<p>

She jolted in her seat, hazel eyes frightened but alert. Though the parlor was now dark, all the colors seemed eerily vivid as Maura looked around. The fir tree that had seemed so jolly earlier, beribboned and studded with brightly-colored ornaments, now loomed threateningly in the corner. And Maura shivered slightly, as the final embers of the once-roaring fire sputtered and died out. The only light in the room came from the moon, which glinted off the snow to send refracted beams of luminescence through the big picture window.

The twelve deep chimes came slowly from the grandfather clock, and Maura felt as if each one were louder than the one before it. She glanced across the room to see a shaft of moonlight reflect off the large glass clock face, and then she blinked sharply. The painted piece behind the glass cover was a face as well. Maura had thought, when she was younger, that he was the grandfather the clock was named for, and referred to him as such. Of course, now she knew better, but she still affectionately patted Grandfather Tick-Tock when she passed him by. But his face – which had always remained fixed with a light, wizened smile – just _moved_. He'd winked at Maura!

She shook her head. "It must be the hour, playing tricks on me," she murmured. She untucked her feet from beneath her, and made to rise. "There are too many shadows down here. I'll feel better in the nursery."

Just then, she realized that her nutcracker was no longer nestled in the crook of her arm. She gasped quietly and shot to her feet, looking all around the dim space for her injured doll. He was not under her chair, nor tucked into the cushion – Maura knew he couldn't have gotten as far as the hearth, or under the tree, so she was baffled. It wasn't as if he could've gotten up and walked away – was it?

"Nutcracker?" she called out tentatively. "Nutcracker, darling?"

"Foolish, impudent child!"

Maura started at the voice. It was faint, so quiet she almost wasn't sure she'd heard it at all.

"Unhand me, Mouse!" There was another voice, and this one sounded almost…familiar? "If you want to fight, fight fairly!"

"You always were so inclined to justice," the first voice sneered. Maura looked around, but couldn't see anyone or anything. "How disappointing."

The soft sound of tiny claws scratching against the hardwood floors made Maura look down, and she stifled a gasp behind her hand. There was her Nutcracker, sword drawn, and a – a _mouse_! The mouse was wearing a crown, and he had a long, jeweled staff in his hand. There were other mice (his army?) flanked behind him, as if preparing for battle. And Maura's Nutcracker – arm still in its makeshift ribbon sling – was all alone. So, when the Mouse King lunged at the nutcracker, Maura saw red.

"You stay away from him!" she shrieked, stamping her foot so hard it sent shockwaves through the floorboards and his soldiers tumbling to the ground.

But the Mouse King merely chuckled. "Him? Stupid girl, do you honestly—"

"You leave him to me, Maura," the nutcracker rasped seriously.

Maura stood stunned for a moment, and then asked, "How do you know my name?"

Meanwhile, the Mouse King got a snide, scheming smirk on his face. "Your _nutcracker_ cares about you, evidently," he sneered. "Silly girl stands far too tall, so instead, make her _small_!" As he chanted, a sickly red glow enveloped Maura, and she felt her altitude shift drastically. She couldn't see at all, and there was a sharp pain in her ribs like everything inside her was constricting. When she finally regained her senses, she was staring straight into the warm, dark eyes of her nutcracker.

"Nutcracker?" she asked dazedly, still not sure what had happened.

"Oh, Maura, I'm so sorry," the nutcracker whispered. "Change her back!" she ordered the mouse.

"Oh no, she's far much more fun this way!" the mouse laughed.

"Change her back," Nutcracker hissed. "Change her back, and I'll – I'll come with you," the nutcracker said in defeat.

"A tempting offer," the Mouse King mused. Then he shook his head. "But it's too late for that. No, now the _two_ of you can return to the kingdom with me – there's a cell in the dungeon with your names on it."

The nutcracker's eyes narrowed, and he leveled his sword at the king's throat. "Don't count on it, Mouse," Nutcracker said darkly.

"Guards!" the Mouse King cried out. "Take it away!"

He began to direct his army with his staff, like a conductor would use a baton. Maura was horrified to see that he almost looked _gleeful_ at the idea of manhandling her poor nutcracker. She felt sick, and knew that she had to do something. Though the nutcracker fought valiantly, he was still just one against many. So, as discreetly as she could, she began to unwind the ribbon around her right ankle, and slid the slipper off her foot. She wrapped the ends of the satin ties around her hand, making a fist, and snuck up behind the Mouse King.

"Leave him alone!"

Maura swung her makeshift weapon around, creating momentum, and whacked the mouse solidly on the back of the head. He stumbled forward, his crown slipping off and clattering to the floor. As he sank to his knees, stunned, his soldiers rushed to his aid, and Nutcracker was left alone.

"Quick, grab my hand!" the nutcracker hissed, stretching out wooden fingers for Maura to grab onto. "Hurry!"

Her shoe still twisted around her right hand, Maura reached out with her left, and ran along behind her new friend. They passed under a small archway – a mousehole, Maura mused later – into a tunnel, and came out on the other side to find a lush landscape of fragrant fruit trees and thick, full grasses.

"Oh," Maura breathed, awestruck. "What _is_ this place?"

"Welcome to my home," Nutcracker said, a hint of melancholy in his tone. "This is Trimountaine, land of the Mouse King."

"It's so…beautiful!" Maura exclaimed. "But how – where did it all come from? Has it been in our mousehole this whole time?"

The nutcracker chuckled. "No, Maura. Mouseholes and anthills and other little creature-made fissures are merely gateways. Trimountaine exists outside of the boundaries of your reality."

"How do you know that?"

"I was told, by another doll in the toy shop your godfather bought me from."

Maura was skeptical, but nodded anyway. Then she frowned. "If Trimountaine is your home, then why were you in a toy shop?"

The nutcracker was silent for a long time, and Maura was afraid that he hadn't heard her query – or worse, that she'd offended him somehow. But then Nutcracker spoke. "I wasn't always a nutcracker," he said quietly. "I left Trimountaine to seek out assistance, but of course, you humans don't particularly care for toys wandering around by themselves."

"What made you think that my world would be able to cure you?"

"When I was young, I was told stories of a Sugarplum Princess. She would be smart, and just, and loyal, and her good magic would be strong enough to reverse any curse. Of course, the legend tells that she lives in Marzipan Manor on the Isle of Divinity, which lies across the Sea of Storms. But I have to believe that she exists, because if she doesn't…" The nutcracker trailed off, and Maura swallowed a sigh. _Poor Nutcracker_, she thought.

Maura wanted to take his mind of their predicament, so she asked, "Where exactly are we, now? And where do we need to go?"

Nutcracker snapped back into his soldier persona. "Well, we're in Mincemeat Meadow," he said, gesturing at the multicolored field they stood in. "There's a pomander grove a few meters west."

Maura looked in that direction, and gasped. "Pomanders grow on trees?"

"Of course they do," Nutcracker laughed. "Where did you think they came from, the ground?"

"No, of course not!" Maura flushed. "I just – well, I always thought Cook made them. They're just oranges with cloves, you know," she said haughtily.

Nutcracker snorted quietly, but didn't say anything else about the matter. "Past this glade is Gingerbread Village. I had some compatriots before I left, but I'm sure they're all scattered now. That was nearly a year ago, and even then the Mouse King endeavored to rid Trimountaine of anyone who opposed his rule."

"That's awful!" Maura cried. "That Mouse King is horrid!"

"I agree," Nutcracker nodded solemnly. "But Trimountaine was once a peaceful and happy land. The King and Queen were well-loved by their people, and they ruled with a fair hand. The Mouse was the real king's advisor, but he soon grew greedy, and overthrew the kingdom after the birth of their daughter, the Princess."

"What happened to her? Is she alright?" Maura asked worriedly.

The nutcracker sighed. "The Mouse King raised her to rule in his image, and so she was a very spoiled and cruel princess. Then, on her sixteenth birthday, she discovered that the Mouse had not adopted her as he'd claimed, but that he had usurped the reign of her true parents and she had been taken as an heir. They fought, and he destroyed her."

"Oh, no!"

Nutcracker looked at Maura curiously. "Oh no?" he asked.

Maura had tears in her eyes. "Well, it wasn't the Princess' fault! She wasn't taught correctly; she didn't know any better than what the Mouse King had told her! Surely, the people cannot blame her for her actions when she was treated this way!"

"Our actions exemplify our character," Nutcracker replied evenly. "Even if she was indoctrinated, the choices were hers to make."

"That's horrible," Maura disagreed. "You're just as bad as the rest of them! If she were still here, I would support her no matter what!"

With that, Maura stamped her foot and stalked away from the nutcracker. He shook his head slowly, but a small grin curved his wooden mouth.

"Maura, wait!" he called after her.

"I am waiting," she muttered petulantly. "I don't know where to go."

The nutcracker reached out for her hand, and after a glower, Maura gave it.

"Come along, then," Nutcracker said gently. "We'll start in the village. If we can't find anyone there, they'll probably have a haven past the bogs."

"And then on to Divinity?"

Nutcracker looked surprised. "Well, I—"

"If that's where the Sugarplum Princess is, I think we ought to make that our goal!"

"So…" Nutcracker trailed off. "You believe me? That she exists?"

"I'm in a magical fairy world that I got to through a mousehole in the baseboard, and I'm currently only a fraction of my natural size," Maura ribbed good-naturedly. "If that can be true, why not this? And, if I am in a dream – at least I'm with you."

The nutcracker was speechless, and it took a sharp tug from Maura to get them traveling down the path to Gingerbread Village.


	3. A Pine Forest in Winter

i'm so sorry, you guys! this week were my finals, but finals week is really next week so we still had classes, and i'm also prepping for the holidays and so forth. but i'm going home today! so hopefully i'll have a lot more writing time. thanks for your patience :)

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><p>It was not a terribly long walk to the village, but long enough that Maura and the nutcracker had stopped to rest and refuel about half of the way down. There was a large lake, dotted with fruit-bearing bushes, and the nutcracker gathered some of the fruit before they sat underneath a large pomander tree to eat. Their walk and meal were scored with light conversation, but as they neared the village, Nutcracker grew serious.<p>

"What's the matter?" Maura asked, picking up on her companion's mood.

"This feels wrong," he answered quietly. "There is an orchard in Fruitcake Valley, and men and women from the village work there. We should hear them. And there are always carts and people on this road, especially so close to town – where are they?"

"Perhaps it's an off-day?" Maura suggested. "It is Christmas, after all."

"All the more reason for there to be activity," Nutcracker said.

They crested a small hill, and Nutcracker gasped. Maura wasn't quite sure what she was seeing. "What is it?" she asked. "What's wrong?"

"No," the nutcracker didn't answer, just shook his head in dismay. "No." He took off running down the hill, and Maura raced to keep up.

"Wait! Nutcracker, please, what is—" Then she understood. The gate to Gingerbread Village hung crooked, warped off its hinges by brute force or magic. The houses, which Maura assumed to have once been as lovely and perfect as the ones she saw in the bakery window, were demolished. Some looked as if huge bites had been taken out of them, and some were utterly crushed.

"What have I done," Maura heard the nutcracker mutter. His head was in his hands, and Maura's heart broke.

"Nutcracker," she murmured. "Let's go down and see. Perhaps it isn't so bad," she suggested optimistically.

The nutcracker sighed, but followed Maura down the path into the village. Maura tried not to gasp in shock and dismay every time they passed a dismantled cottage. She hadn't been expecting there to be so many traces of familiarity, but it seemed as though the citizens of Trimountaine had lived lives a lot like her own – there were broken parlor chairs, books with torn pages, and even a small doll much like one she'd had at Tommy's age.

Maura bent down and retrieved it from the rubble, brushing crumbs and glassy sugar shards out of its curly blonde hair. There was a small cry, and Maura whirled around in time to see two little heads disappear out of sight.

"Nutcracker," she whispered. Her friend was milling about rather aimlessly, a depressed expression on the handsome face. "Nutcracker, I think someone is watching us!"

"Soldiers?" he whispered back, already on high alert.

Maura shook her head. "Children," she replied. She hushed him with a finger to her lips, and motioned for him to follow her over to the pile of debris she'd seen the faces hide behind. Quietly, they walked to the small barricade, and Maura went over to one side while Nutcracker went to the other. As she had thought, Maura saw two little girls crouched together, and they were whispering furiously.

"She's got my doll!" one was saying, tears in her eyes.

"I know, but they'll leave soon if they don't see us. So keep quiet, and they won't."

"But she's got my _doll_!"

"Is this yours?" Maura asked gently, holding the doll out to the younger of the two. The big one sprang to her feet at the voice, and grabbed the little one's hand to pull her along, but Nutcracker was there to slow them down on the other side. "We're friends, I promise," Maura said, her voice still soft. "I'm Maura, and this is my friend Nutcracker. What are your names?"

"I'm Riley," said the big one, a tan girl with dark features who looked to be about Frankie's age. "And this is Susie," she gestured to the younger one, a pale girl with pitch-black hair who was clutching her doll for dear life. Maura figured she was Tommy's age, roughly. She smiled faintly at the thought of her little brothers, but was brought back to focus when Riley sneered, "Nutcracker is a stupid name. Why is your name Nutcracker?"

"It isn't," Nutcracker said archly, as if offended. Maura blushed. _Of course his name isn't Nutcracker_, she scolded herself. _He was a person once._ "It's my title. My name is—" he paused, stiltedly, and then said, "Er, you can call me Jane."

"Jane? That's a girl's name, silly!" Susie giggled.

Nutcracker – well, _Jane_ – shrugged. "That's okay. I am a girl."

"You don't look like a girl! Girls wear dresses and have long hair!"

"I'm not wearing a dress," Riley scoffed indignantly, gesturing to her fleecy bodysuit. While Susie had on a full-skirted coat and wore a matching cap and muffler, Riley was decked out in a one-piece snow outfit with suede and soft shearling lining.

Susie grinned bashfully. "Oh."

"And who's to say I don't have long hair?" Jane asked, removing her tall soldier's hat. Dark curls tumbled free, and they ended in the middle of Jane's back.

Maura's mouth hung open in shock, and she felt more than a bit embarrassed. She tried to force an apology from her mouth, but couldn't find the right words. Instead, she listened and watched as her nutcracker – _Jane_ – made the children feel at ease, and got them to agree to let her and Maura salvage what they could from the village and then bring the girls along on their journey.

"Can you tell me what happened here?" Jane asked Riley, as they walked down the village path to the main valley road.

"The Mouse King's army," Riley frowned darkly. "He sent his soldiers to round up the villagers and force them to join him, but nobody would. My mama told me they were preparing for a fight, but the soldiers came sooner than they thought and there were too many of them. They weren't ready. Some people escaped, but most everybody died," she said.

"How did the two of you survive?" Maura asked.

"We were out picking gumdrops," Susie piped up. "Mama made Riley take me, even though she said I was too little."

"I'm glad she did, Sue," Riley said, hugging her sister. "If she hadn't, I'd be all alone now."

Maura smiled sadly, thinking of her own family. Sure, Tommy and Frankie could be awful nuisances, but she would much rather have them than not.

"And you have been here all alone since you got back?" Jane asked, with no small amount of concern.

"Only since yesterday," Riley answered.

"Well, you certainly aren't alone anymore," Maura said brightly.

"That's right," Jane agreed, smiling widely at Maura. "And we will stay together until we can find more allies."

"Who is Moore Alize?" Susie asked innocently.

Jane laughed. "_More allies_ is not just one person – allies are…friends, or people who fight on the same side as you."

"Oh," Susie giggled."

"What if there are none?" Riley asked darkly. "What if we have no more allies?"

Maura and Jane shared a look. "There must be," Maura said optimistically.

"How do you know?"

Jane ignored the question for now, and instead directed one of her own at Susie. "Would you like to hear a story, Susie?"

"Oh, yes please!" Susie clapped her hands excitedly.

The sky was quickly growing dark, and Maura knew that they would soon have to stop for the night. Jane seemed to realize this as well, for she stopped walking and looked off into a clearing by the road.

"Alright, I'll tell you the story after we set up camp here. Can you help Maura find some food for us to eat? She's never been to Trimountaine before, so I need you to show her what is good and what is not." To Riley, she said, "Can you help me find some firewood?"

Riley nodded, and she and Jane went off to find kindling. Susie grabbed Maura's hand and pulled her off towards a clump of bushes, claiming that they were the most wonderful kinds of bushes in the world.

It was finally starting to sink in for Maura that she was going to be here a while, and that scared her. She nodded and hummed approval when Susie filled her pockets with berries and nuts, but she copied the child's actions almost robotically, and she was just barely holding it together. She was more than glad to get back to the campsite and find Jane stoking a small blaze, with Riley setting out a few small metal bowls they'd taken from one of the demolished houses in the village.

They added the berries to the bowls, and Jane cooked them over the fire with some juice from the pomanders until they made a sort of jelly. The nuts went on top, and they began to eat in silence.

"Can we hear the story now, Jane?" Susie cried out, mouth full of berry sauce. "I've been waiting and waiting!"

"Indeed you have," Jane agreed with a laugh. "Alright, then. Have you ever heard of the Sugarplum Princess?"

Both girls shook their heads.

"Well, once upon a time, there was a princess who lived on this island whom they called the Sugarplum Princess. She was clever, loyal, and just, and she was well-loved by the people of Trimountaine. She lived far away, though, in the Marzipan Manor on Divinity."

"Across the Sea of Storms?" Susie asked in breathless amazement.

"Exactly," Jane nodded.

"But that's impossible to cross!" Riley argued.

"But the Princess was the greatest practitioner of good magic that Trimountaine had ever seen, before or since! She was so powerful that she could gentle the Sea of Storms, just by wishing it."

"Princesses are stupid," Riley sneered harshly. "I hate them."

"How can you hate princesses?" Maura asked, shocked. "Princesses are lovely and wonderful and kind!"

"Princesses are nothing but trouble," Riley said.

"Remember what I told you," Jane whispered to Maura. "About our princess—"

"We're better off without them!" Riley continued. "Good riddance!"

"Your princess was a good person," Maura said firmly. "She was just brought up by a bad one. You need to show her some respect!"

"Maura, don't—" Jane warned, but it was too late.

"Respect? After what she has let her _kingdom_ become? The Mouse King took over, and she just ran off! She _let_ him destroy everything Trimountaine once was; what it once stood for! She is the reason our mother is dead!" Riley shouted, standing up so that she could have a better vantage against Maura. "She has done nothing to earn my respect," she finished, and stormed off into the trees.

"Oh, no," Jane muttered. "Maura, stay here with Susie. I'll go get her."

"No, Jane. This is my mess – I'll clean it up," Maura said softly. Rubbing her arms slightly, she wished that she'd been wearing more than her nightie when she'd been shrunk. But she ventured into the forest after Riley, hoping to find the girl quickly so they could all get some much needed rest.

Maura found her sitting against a tree, her knees pulled up to her chest, and fiddling with something that hung on a chain around her neck.

"I'm sorry, Riley," Maura began. "I – sometimes I forget to think before I speak, and then the words come out all wrong."

"I should have held my temper," Riley answered, not looking up. "Mama says – _used_ to say – that I lose control too easily."

"It was just you and your sister?"

"Mmhmm. Papa was in the army – the good King's army – but he refused to murder innocent people for the Mouse."

"I am truly sorry," Maura said again, not knowing what else to say. She focused on the chain Riley was playing with. "That is beautiful," she said politely, staring at the pendant. It was a ring, really, but the center stone was an opal, and that was surrounded by tiny clustered pearls.

"It was Mama's," Riley said quietly.

They let the silence hang for a while, and then Maura held out her hand. "Shall we head back?"

Riley allowed the older girl to help her to her feet, and they walked back silently.

"You know, I'm scared to be all alone here," Maura said in a hushed voice, once she could see the flicker of flames in the distance. "I have never been here before, and I had neither family nor friends. But I have Jane now, and you have us and your sister. Together, we will be just fine."

Riley nodded without saying a word, but Maura felt as though she'd made even the slightest headway with her. And maybe, she thought as she sat on the log beside Jane, watching Riley tuck Susie and herself into their makeshift bed, she had helped herself feel better even more than she had helped Riley. She didn't feel nearly half as upset now, leaning her head against Jane's stiff shoulder. She felt…contented.

"Are you tired?" Jane asked her in a low tone. "You may go on to sleep, and I shall keep the watch."

"I would rather stay with you, if you don't mind," Maura said a bit shyly. After all, she wasn't _completely_ comfortable in this strange land.

"Of course not," Jane murmured. She brought up a hand to Maura's cheek, and then stopped, her arm held stiffly in front of her. Maura shook her head lightly, and brought one of her own hands up to pull her nutcracker's hand to her cheek. She sighed, nestling her head in the wooden cup of Jane's hand.

"You don't have to be afraid," Maura mumbled, her eyes growing heavy. "I am here."


End file.
